13 Hours

Feeling a bit lost lately. No, not lost…definitely not lost in the fact that I could use a change. My life has turned into a 9 hour-a-day job that pays my rent, in a square office staring at computer screens that ruin my eyes and give me headaches. Plus another job that I enjoy, but couldn’t make a living off of if I tried. So two jobs, six days a week, 9-13 hours of gloom a day. Am I lost on the fact that at least I have a job? No. Not to mention two, and one that gives me the flexibility to watch Netflix when it’s dead slow (like it has been for the past 4 months). But is this what adulthood is? Spending my days working 13 hours and not enjoying my cats, wine, friends, family, and boyfriend. Because in all honesty…that is fucking stupid.

I don’t do well with boredom. It has never really suited me. I have a hit a boredom level that I never thought I’d get to.

I can’t say I ever had a “vision” for my life. However, boredom never really crossed my mind growing up. Can I just up and quit my job because I feel like it? No. I don’t have that luxury because, well…life is expensive and the amount of debt from higher education I have incurred is absurd.

Can’t say I have been the happiest lately. Not that anyone would describe me as “happy.” And in a world of social media filters and “social media influencers” actually making money to put up edited photos, it seems that I’m the only one who is essentially unhappy.

The comfort of knowing myself is that I accept the fact that I am unhappy and have the ability to change it — although it’s more fun to bitch about it. I have put myself here, in this tiny boxed-in office, so I can get myself out. I guess I’ll stop writing my feelings, and start making a plan to fix it. Hopefully one that involves wine, cats, and life goals.

You’re allowed to be grateful AND unhappy.


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